


and it's still alright

by DeHeerKonijn



Series: like, comment, subscribe [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Consent, Fluff, Humor, I hope lol, Kink Negotiation, Legolas is annoying :), M/M, Safeword Use, Safewords, Shibari, briefly, gimli is grouchy :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeHeerKonijn/pseuds/DeHeerKonijn
Summary: Legolas nearly falls backwards onto his ass, but wobbles on the narrow points of his heels and rights himself, pitching forward to quickly begin his work undoing the elaborate system of knots.When Gimli has at least some room to take a full breath, Legolas lessens his pace, takes a moment to help Gimli slip the blindfold off. “You ok?” he asks.--Or, Gimli and Legolas take a night off. :)
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Series: like, comment, subscribe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183949
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	and it's still alright

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just to showcase a tiny headcanon that [Roselightfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy) and I have, which is... Legolas and Gimli have a safeword. The least sex-feelings a word can possibly have. That word is Thranduil LMFAO the rest is just fluffy scaffolding.
> 
> Roselightfairy, thank you for the quick beta! :)
> 
> Part of my ongoing modern AU. You don't really need to know anything else about it except they're still an elf and dwarf.

He presses his booted foot squarely between Gimli’s shoulder blades, and the motion earns a sharp inhale from his captive. He looks beautiful like this, Legolas thinks; helpless, black silk snug against the bridge of his nose to keep him sightless, unaware of any punishment or mercy an elf might be so inclined to give. Of course, to have Gimli be bound like this is both. The freckled skin that presses, bulges around where the nylon ropes squeeze his skin tight is pink - not quite angry, but very pretty. Pretty and pink. Legolas leans in, shifts his center against Gimli’s sturdy shoulders to walk that tightrope between thrill and discomfort with a heavy press of all his weight. Then, he removes his foot from Gimli’s back all at once like a springboard, retreats, and his heels are loud in the quiet as they _clip clip clip_ around the dwarf’s meaty right flank. He takes his time, enjoying the journey around to Gimli’s front to where he is kneeling, bent in two on a folded bath towel and already trembling. 

Gimli’s hair is a cascade of fiery curls, tumbling down over the crown of his bowed head. He wants to reach out and touch them, but that is for later. 

Legolas squats down. The squeak of the shiny patent leather sounds dangerous as he does. Gimli knows he is there, of course, sucks in a breath as if he senses the electric warmth of the space Legolas occupies - but the anticipation - the anticipation is everything. Legolas licks his lips. He feels like a viper narrowing in on a mouse in the dark, but it’s Gimli who does the hissing when Legolas reaches out a delicate hand to tighten the rope harness, Gimli who has been mute until now, throat working around a tight sound - 

“Argh, ah, n-no I can’t - sorry,— Leg -“ Gimli groans. “ — _Thranduil_ , Legolas.”

Legolas nearly falls backwards onto his ass, but wobbles on the narrow points of his heels and rights himself, pitching forward to quickly begin his work undoing the elaborate system of knots.

When Gimli has at least some room to take a full breath, Legolas lessens his pace, takes a moment to help Gimli slip the blindfold off. “You ok?” he asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I just - “ Gimli sighs, flexing his newly liberated wrists, rubbing them gingerly. “Wasn’t as in the mood for it as I thought I was.”

Legolas sweeps Gimli’s hair away from his neck, gathers it for him into a low pony. “I had my suspicions,” he says. “Sorry — Thought you were playing hard to get.”

“That’s why your dad is the safeword.”

They stand together, and even with the towel, being folded up on the hardwood floor for the past twenty minutes makes Gimli’s joints pop. Legolas teases him for his uttered “oof”, for being so creaky. Gimli ignores him, but does crack a smile when Legolas goofily drapes himself over Gimli’s shoulders from above in the world’s lankiest bear hug. 

Legolas is, of course, much taller than Gimli to begin with, but in these heels he absolutely towers over him - so much, in fact, that he nearly overshoots and topples them both. Gimli steadies him with a hand on Legolas’ lean thigh.

“They’re extremely good boots,” Gimli remarks, patting fondly at the firm muscle, “I guess I just … long day, you know? Not really feeling it.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Legolas asks. 

Gimli grumbles something vague about staffing troubles.

Of course, Legolas asked what was up when Gimli got home that afternoon, too, and allegedly everything had been fine then, so this is a development. Good thing Legolas is as patient as he is nosy. One way or another, he’ll wheedle it out of him.

For now, Legolas lets him root through their dresser drawers for a pair of sweats, which he slips into without first fetching a pair of briefs. 

Well. Just because Gimli tapped out early doesn’t mean Legolas can’t admire his bulge through the medium-weight modal fabric. And he does just that, backing himself into the cushy wingback chair by the window, reaching down to begin the intensive unbuckling process of his brand new knee-high Lórinands. 

He takes his time, and keeps his gaze subtly on Gimli as the dwarf bundles his floor-pile of work clothes into the hamper and catches a glance of himself in the mirror that is … notably brief. Brief, but Legolas doesn’t miss the way Gimli’s deep, warm eyes linger on his own belly, his own chest, his own face, and then how quickly he seems to straighten up and retreat into an old tee on his way to the bathroom. Hm.

Legolas safely tucks his new boots back into their box, folds the tissue paper over them and leaves them alone for the time being. 

He is collecting the nylon rope and busily not affording it the same careful courtesy when Gimli pads back around their bed. His face is freshly washed - Legolas can smell the clean, bright scent of his cleanser. Their hands find each other by instinct. 

“Want to finish that film?” Gimli asks.

“Yeah,” Legolas says, and gives his softest smile. “You missed the best part when you fell asleep last night.”

Later, they are both pajama-clad in a pile on the couch. Legolas is squished into a corner, and Gimli is sprawled against him, one warm tangle tucked up under the elf’s chin. Legolas has seen this part before, so instead of paying attention to Faramir’s current actress-crush he marks the rise and fall of Gimli’s relaxed breath minute by minute. He stretches a hand against the broad sternum, rubs in soothing circles. That relaxed breath hitches almost imperceptibly when that hand comes to finally rest without intent on the swell of Gimli’s stomach.

Legolas drops a kiss onto Gimli’s head. “Hm?” 

They both know Gimli can’t pretend, not after so many years with Legolas. What he can do is sigh about it though, and he does.

“You know that interview Eomer asked me to sit in on? For that new adjunct professor position?”

Legolas begins carding his fingers through Gimli’s hair. It’s a little difficult to braid at this angle, but it won’t stop him from trying. “Mhm. Are they cute?”

“Extremely. Perfect CV... About half my age.”

“Mhm? Makes you want to consider adoption?”

“Makes me feel old,” Gimli says. His voice is as tired as if he were actually an old man. Of course Legolas wants to laugh— he’s sounding like his uncle Oin, which is ridiculous—but clearly this worry has settled into his husband somehow, so he won’t.

Legolas finishes off Gimli’s braid. It’s a little ugly, but it’s the gesture that matters. He places another kiss to Gimli’s head.

“And when I feel old, I feel - irrelevant,” - Gimli’s voice squeezes around the admission - “unattractive.”

And that’s the most egregious part of this whole business. Ever since they first met, Legolas has known Gimli to be in possession of a healthy confidence bordering the arrogant for most things, especially where his looks are concerned.

“Meleth,” Legolas admonishes, but quickly softens his tone. “Permission to butter you up?”

“Go for it.”

“First of all: handsome,” Legolas says simply, “Handsome! Handsoooome!” Each declaration is punctuated by a tight squeeze and a purposefully disruptive side-to-side rocking. “Come on, you know how hot you are - my comments section is like a slip-n-slide any time I post a pic of you.”

“You choose good pictures,” Gimli grumps. Legolas is having none of it. 

“You list your Prof-Pick hotness level on the top of your syllabus!”

“It’s just a joke!”

“Bah!” Legolas shifts and wiggles until he has bumped Gimli up off his chest enough to then wrap his legs around the dwarf’s hips - shibari who? Legolas doesn’t know her. His embrace is firm and unyielding, and this time Gimli cannot escape.

“I’m _appalled_ at this disrespect of my taste in men! Gimli. Have you seen your own face? Have you seen your own _butt_? Objectively, you are the ideal hottie with a body, and you know right well that if you flex your pecs trying to make a joke it can, has, and will make me come in my pants.”

It was really just the once, on the tail end of a long winter. Gimli was fresh out of the shower, Legolas was fresh into the euphoria of that good green-smell drunkenness.

“Taste in men?” Gimli counters. “You didn’t have a taste in _anyone_ until you imprinted sexually on me, elf. ”

“So?” Legolas fakes outrage, “Were you born a smartass or did you have to learn it from your dad? I’ve studied hotness, like, objectively. You’ve taught me! That makes it academic!”

“You can’t be objective when you’re so biased.”

Legolas wants to fling Gimli up and off him so he can force eye contact, but he isn’t willing to relinquish his octopus hold just yet. “Gimli, we have _not_ spent countless hours playing Hot or Not with strangers for you to turn around and disrespect my degree in man-ology like this!”

Gimli only grunts, so Legolas takes it as an invitation to keep being rantingly indignant on the behalf of his extremely sexy husband.

“You are the only dwarf I know with as many steps in his skin-care regimen as Arwen has - _and it shows_ \- and as if it wasn’t unfair enough that you should be born with this stunning profile - somehow under the weight of all this gorgeous, _very_ hydrated hair there is a brain that is so huge I can’t even fully comprehend how you carry it around sometimes,” Legolas goes on. 

Gimli snorts derisively - which is maybe a sign that if anything, his cloudy mood is lessening slightly. Gimli’s ego is sometimes a delicate thing: when it’s on, nothing can touch him. But when it’s off...even the presence of a slightly-younger academic in his field with the audacity to be even a tenth as conventionally attractive as Gimli is enough to sour his entire day, apparently. 

The trials of the heavily endowed, Legolas supposes.

“You’re basically the executor of Eomer’s will! He trusts you with _everything_ ,” he points out. “If a bus hit him tomorrow, that chair would be yours.”

Gimli grumbles again.

“You can grouse all you like but you know it’s true. You’re a great teacher - remember all of those awards your thesis got you? And you’re off to that symposium next month to be a keystone speaker.”

“Keynote,” Gimli corrects.

“Whatever, my point is that you have a pretty impressive resume yourself there. You couldn’t have accomplished all you have if you weren’t once a sexy young homewrecker.”

Finally, Gimli feels a little less tense, a little softer in the shoulders. His determination to hold himself a one-dwarf pity party is no match for Legolas and never has been. With his arms and legs still wrapped around Gimli’s body, the elf wiggles again for effect, purposefully jostling him.

“So don’t forget: I love you, I love your big sexy body, I love your big sexy brain, I love your big sexy accomplishments.”

“Thanks, love,” Gimli chuckles. They share a silent moment together while _Shieldmaidens_ 's runtime continues ticking along unnoticed on their television. They’ll have to backtrack yet again, but that’s alright: their Archer Premium account lets them rent for a full 72 hours after purchase. 

“Wish I would have realized earlier that you weren’t feeling it,” Legolas admits. “I wouldn’t have tried to tie you up otherwise!”

“I didn’t realize, myself,” Gimli repeats, a little sheepish now that he’s released some of his self-conscious discomfort. 

Legolas is silent again for a moment, letting the waifish blond protagonist mourn her lost love on screen. He then laughs out loud.

“Rude,” Gimli snarks. The wails of the actress swell with the soundtrack.

“No, no, it’s just. I think that’s the first time you’ve ever employed the safeword. Truly, my father’s name is only to be uttered under the most dire of circumstances!”


End file.
